Reluctant soul
by gatsbyfan1
Summary: A shape looms out of the mist and darkness, it is Heathcliff - but he is not alone...Please read and review!
1. Reluctant Soul

Hello, I hope you enjoy reading my first Wuthering Heights fanfic! I don't own any of the characters/plot and I'm not making any profit from my story. Please r&r! :-)

The window rattled impatiently within its casement, for all the world as though motivated by the impulsiveness of his heart's twin. Heathcliff moved with a startling alacrity, duly lent to him by months of frayed nerves and delusions, and in three swift strides he was by the window. The fine mist outside obstructed his view rendering the atmoshere like a pane of glass that has been breathed upon by some malign force, but he could discern no numinous signs of Cathy's presence, no imploring ashen face with wasted eyes pleading to return to her home.

Bitter memories blended with a keen sense of disillusion, reproachful tears stung his eyes and vile imprecations fell from his lips as he thought about the cursed tenant Lockwood, if only it had it been he; Heathcliff, who had beheld his adored Cathy he was sure his felicity would have exceeded all earthly limits. He knew he would never again behold her beloved countenance, but instead be forced to endure the whispers of her presence. To relinquish his life, extinguish his senses would be to forget that Cathy had once existed, and so he clung with an even greater tenacity to his miserable existence rather than end the memories connected with each sacred object that Cathy had once touched or beheld.

Recently, it was impossible for Heathcliff to be untroubled by loathsome memories of Thrushcross Grange, which caused a disquietude in his soul because it was connected to that fateful meeting with his rival to Cathy's affections, Edgar Linton. He remembered the house had been aglow with the warm blush of candlelight, the cosy furniture and roaring fire bespeaking a life of comfort and plenty. He had stolen a furtive glance at Cathy, and saw that her face was animated with good-humour as though her heart was kindled by the glow of the family scene. Cathy's fall had awakened the family from their peaceful tea-time and sent them bustling towards the origin of the terrible outburst. Heathcliff was completely forgotten in their rapturous reception of their neighbour Miss Catherine Earnshaw, they cooed over her and each sought to outdo the other in making her feel comfortable. Isabella Linon's expression was of avid interest, for Cathy was as alien in her rags to the Linton's world as their finery were to hers.

Heathcliff perceived Linton's look of adoration directed at Cathy and his heart sank a little at having a rival to challenge him for Cathy's love, however, this thought subsided gradually along with his anger; for after all, could Cathy countenance a match with one so pale and trembling? Edgar's timid expression gave his face the look of one who is constantly about to burst into tears. Heathcliff felt confident that this meeting was only an glitch in an otherwise tranquil landscape, and that as soon as they reached the Heights they would revert back to their usual past-time of causing as much trouble as possible for the adults (whom they despised), and playing their games of make-believe.

His one friend and ally seemed remote to him in all her new splendour, she had even strayed into the conventions of politeness, acting like the adults who chided him for his propensity towards swearing, fighting and general shabbiness of appearance. He was plunged from his solitary station of importance, Cathy's best friend and treasured companion, to servile interloper clinging to the edges of the Earnshaw family, unwanted and unloved, by a slender thread composed of his gratitude towards Mr. Earnshaw his rescuer and Hindley's aversion to acting against his late father's wishes, although it was clear from his cruelty and neglect that he despised Heathcliff. Heathcliff took Cathy's kindly meant words about his appearance as a rebuke and from then on sought no company but his own. In his mind he was determined to revenge himself on those he felt had treated him ill, spurning him and making him feel a burden to the Earnshaw's hospitality. A lightening bolt that tore across the turbulent skies recalled Heathcliff to the present as it briefly illumined the inscriptions made by Cathy on the window ledge in her former room.

A familiar stab of resentment seized his heart at the inscription 'Catherine Linton', along with the urge to obliterate Linton's name altogether, as if to efface the name would purge the rage he felt for that man who was beneath his pity.

*

Alas, my master's crazed brain sought frantically for his favourite – distorting the mundane sounds of the household into fantastical notions, the leaves that sighed against the widowpane whispered his name, the nimbus of light that shone under a door from an unspent candle was her ghost. I trembled with renewed fear each time his hopes were dashed, the material world railing against his dormant expectation that his favoured one was close at hand. Even the rain which battered the Heights, as no doubt it had done for centuries, became an inducement to believe in an unseen world of spirits and wandering souls. Leaden clouds gathered apace outside, portending rain as they rumbled ominously in the distance. The disconcerting noise of near thunder made my master start instinctively, chilling him to his very bones as it broke the silence that shrouded the house.

He was a different man after mistress Cathy died, even the erstwhile pleasure he had taken in haranguing the young Cathy when she had lived at the Heights with Hareton had lost its savour towards the end, as his senses became dulled by the pain of his own sombre contemplations. His equanimity, albeit a capricious one at best had been upset and I feared the change in my master's character - from the strong gentleman he was to this man who would jump at a shadow, and for all his moroseness I wished the old Heathcliff would return. I had long ago ceased to inquire into the state of my master's mind, afraid of the despondency that engulfed him, further clouding his brooding visage.

It seemed that my master was in a constant state of enmity, persisting since his childhood, with himself and every other soul in this world. For Heathcliff had long regarded the Heights as a place akin to a prison, Hareton was cast in the role of tyrant, not forgetting the grumbling, shuffling Joseph whose rare moments of loquaciousness were confined (it seemed to Heathcliff) to complaining solely about his and Cathy's behaviour, presaging doomed ends for them all and vaunting his own moral superiority, excluding any reproach of Hareton, much to Heathcliff's disdain.

I sought to allay his fears about my former mistress and wake him from the solitary world he now inhabited. I awaited an opportune moment to converse with him, for I was certain he would want to know about a conversation that passed between Cathy and I many years ago. I found him in Cathy's former room engrossed in his melancholy, staring at the inscriptions she had made. He barely lifted his eyes sensing my approach.

'Mr Heathcliff, there is something that is weighing on my conscience...' I began tentatively, knowing that my master was never a biddable man and prone to sudden bursts of choler. Heathcliff turned his dark eyes on me and with his reply consciously set about making me feel more uneasy, sensing the trepidation with which I spoke.

'Ah, and you wish to divest yourself of this moral burden, my good woman?' smirked my master, who ever found amusement in seeing the discomfiture of others. 'Is there a spot on Nelly Dean's impeccable soul? Has she something to absolve, afraid that heaven itself will renege on its promise of salvation and close its gates against you?' he sneered, all the while holding my stare with a most malign expression.

'Please, it is of Miss Cathy I wish to speak'. I was immediately sorry for having broached the subject, whereon the lines of his face drew themselves into their habitual grimace and the surly edge to his manner disappeared leaving only a shadow of pain.

'What of her?' he said abruptly, rising from his seat and walking slowly towards the window, his back towards me.

I was resolved not to lose composure, and so I began, fearing lest my resolve should waver and I would remain silent forever, 'As you know, when Miss Cathy was young she would talk to me of lots of things'. I began with this generalisation as a preamble.

'Go on' said Heathcliff tersely.

'Shortly before you left...' here I chose my words with great care, for I knew they evoked an epoch in my master's life that he could but reflect upon with pain; however, much to my own surprise my next words were, 'Miss Cathy spoke to me candidly about her relationship with Mr Edgar and yourself'.

'She told me that should calamity befall her and she be perforce separated from yourself or her home the Heights (here he turned his face almost to look at me) she would shun heaven to return again'. Having lived at the Heights I have seen both joy and despair in the countenance of others, and I believe a strange mixture of the two played across his countenance. He turned to face me and spoke with more composure than I thought possible from him, 'You wish to cajole me into good humour and peddle this ridiculous story, suggesting that she (he seemed determined not to mention my late mistress by name) has escaped the confines of heaven. For aught I know you conspire with the old man to turn me from this house!'

'I see that you are pre-disposed to see everything ill' I began, alarmed at his anger.

'Perhaps you enlighten me now for my moral edification? he retorted, taking a few steps towards me, 'this has contemptible echoes of a former conversation in which you told me of the negligible value of earthly things, including an angel's face and blue eyes, yet your mistress never held to such values as trust or honesty...' he trailed off and seemed to continue a conversation in his mind he had begun many times before.

'Please, sir...' I began, but he interrupted vehemently,

'She was wont to be seduced by an angel's face and fortune, what charm could a servant hold for her?'. I had never heard my master utter a disparaging word about himself, and I think his words even shocked him a little, for he fell silent and looked more desolate than ever. His outburst was proceeded by a few seconds of silence in which he visibly recuperated his strength, 'Speak plain Nelly, or else keep your counsel on this matter forever, wherefore does she tarry on this earth? Why must she importune the wretched human beings she left behind in her wake? I feared that his mind was again beginning to wander, for he grew more desperate, 'her presence poisons as it soothes, Nelly, why does she choose cover of the stars to wander the heights? Maybe the heavens have deliberately closed their eyes against her trespass and have to beckon her reluctant soul back at the slender touch of the first rays of light, recalling her to that heaven I have been told that all men seek and yet she alone is determined to shun'. I held my tongue at my master's blasphemy, and sought restore a little of my former mistress' dignity, 'Please master Heathcliff, pretentious and impulsive as she was she loved none but you', I could have sworn that a tear escaped his eye, 'Death is the only salve for my affliction now Nelly'.

My master's peace of mind being destroyed, I had to endure his petty vexations and outbursts daily. One evening my worst fears were realised as he seemed to be conducting a mysterious conversation that no earthly creature was party to, his look lingering on one of the chairs around the table in the sitting room with an expression of awe.

I perceived by dint of his responses and expostulations that his unseen interlocutor seemed to be goading him. I simply watched on transfixed, consumed by the thought that some new tragedy lurked around the corner, that somehow my master's monomania had to conclude itself, else we should all run mad from the tension that filled the house, like a heartbeat. Suddenly he was on his feet, and without a backwards glance he rushed out into the gathering storm, as though some revelation awaited him there...


	2. A Restless Night

A restless night was mine, for I was heir to a fear that burdened my soul. Indeed, I hardly dared guess in what corner of this forsaken landscape my master had sought refuge. There was not an inch of it fit to provide shelter for man or beast, being as it was a desert of tall grasses and heather with scarce a tree for miles around. In my mind's eye I pictured him forlorn and bedraggled, tumbled and languishing in a ditch somewhere. I nursed a forlorn hope that hunger and exhaustion, those wretched twins of anguish, would accompany him to his home with little more than his vanity wounded. It was in this dismal state of mind that I sat in my old mistress' room facing the window, the serenity of morning had long since faded and the night encroached insidiously, the diminishing light having the effect of weakening my spirits. It was in these gloomy spirits that I endeavoured to snatch a few moments of sleep.

I must have dozed in my chair, for I dreamed a terrible dream; I was walking towards Wuthering Heights when I heard the thunder of horses hooves at my back pounding towards me, the sounds of the night, even my own consciousness were elided into this one dreadful sound. I was actuated by two impulses, the first being to flee with all the strength I possessed and the second was to remain rooted there on the path. The noise grew so loud that I was jilted from my rest; I awoke in consternation, yet upon opening my eyes my fears were banished as I discovered the sound was nothing more than a chimera, borne on the raindrops that struck at the window and my own fears that Cathy's ghost lurked nearby. The candle guttered abruptly, throwing strange shadows about the room, whilst I wondered that I; a sober and reliable woman, should be caught up in the ridiculous whims my master and Mr Lockwood were pleased to indulge in.

I am speaking now with much forbearance, for in truth I was terrified at the nightmare and even more so at the driving rain and chill that was heavy in the air outside. An anxiety clung at my strained nerves, and I imagined the hundred catastrophes that might have ended in Heathcliff's death. My mistress had wandered out in conditions like these, and had very nearly caught her death of cold. I barely recognised her upon her return, she had the look of some preternatural creature, gaunt and dishevelled as she was – I wonder how she survived for in her looks there was something vacant, as though she had given up on life altogether. I recalled the countless occasions I had exhorted my master to summon his fortitude, fearing lest the protracted languishing of his spirits would triumph and the darkness claim him as it had done my mistress. My surmises would perhaps be scorned as the stuff of nonsense to a man of science; but I verily believe that the reappearance of one she thought lost to her forever rent her heart in two.


	3. Betwixt this earth and the firmament

The first subdued hues of morning streaked the sky, the daylight waxing languidly over the barren landscape as though the sun offended the dismal Heights by having the temerity to rise. I imagined from the heavens the Heights must appear like a doomed sentinel amongst a valley of gaunt trees mute and stark as skeletons. The sorry affair of Heathcliff's flight recapitulated itself in my mind, a whole day had passed since then, the worst thoughts of calamity assailed my mind - suppose my master lay dead somewhere? I trembled to recall the strange utterances that had befallen his lips addressed to Cathy's supposed ghost, they only hinted at the arcane ruminations that must by ever forming themselves in his brain. My master failed to comprehend that he and Cathy were sundered from each other by the pall of death and he lived in two states; firstly, in sanguine expectation of seeing her again each time a casement should rattle or a door creak open, and secondly in brooding morbidly on the too short time they had passed together.

I bethought myself that mayhap now was the time to search for Heathcliff and I imagined the veritable catalogue of castigations that would have overflown old Joseph's lips had he known of my current enterprise. He would have considered it folly indeed for me to seek out a man whom he was convinced was beyond all religious redemption and described Heathcliff's fate as divine retribution in his inimitable sombre tones. Despite my misgivings, I found my shawl and commenced out of the front door. The mist without was like an infernal miasma, it crept forwards inexorably and engulfed all it touched with its bleak kiss. I confess I had to pause to summon courage to my aid for I could scarce see fifty yards ahead of me. Suddenly, something stirred abroad in the gloom. A dark mass converged amongst the thick mist and resolved itself into a strange shape, I crossed myself in fear lest a strange beast should pounce from the shadows and tear me to pieces. In the haze from amidst the shadows the shape became more defined, and gathered speed apace until I realised this was no infernal beast bent on destruction but master Heathcliff accompanied by the very last person on this earth I imagined would offer my master succour. The pair stumbled forwards, Heathcliff's near listless form being supported by the efforts of his sworn enemy – Edgar! These two were bitter rivals still, Heathcliff's re-appearance had caused a hostility between the two men which had not cooled since Cathy's death, I looked upwards as if I would speak to Cathy directly 'And it is you who have sown the seeds of this discord!' I well remembered what had passed between Heathcliff and Cathy during their fateful meeting which occured three years after Heathcliff had abandoned the Heights...

It was fortuitous that I should be upstairs, laying out my mistress' clothes for the morrow when I chanced to hear a firm step on the flagstones outside. I threw a glance outside the window, in full expectation of seeing my master, Edgar Linton, returning home, and was surprised instead to see a gentleman advancing towards the porch. I was mindful that the arrival of a visitor would be most congenial to my mistress' spirits, for it was a rare occurrence indeed for anyone (much less a gentleman) to visit this part of the country without having stumbled upon it accidentally in need of shelter or escape, furthering the inhabitants notion that only the most foolhardy or miserable would ever venture here. I hastened towards the door of Thrushcross Grange at the sound of the bell, intrigued to discover what the import of the stranger's visit was; I feared it must be urgent, for the bell sounded with an alarming ferocity.

Upon opening the door I beheld a gentleman on the threshold whose physiognomy struck me immediately, there was a fire that lurked beneath his dark eyes and an eminence in his gait that gave him a most pre-possessing air. I believe I have never been more shocked in all my life, with the realisation that Heathcliff stood before me; no longer the scrawny lad with matted, unkempt hair who had caused me a world of trouble at the Heights - for here he stood before me a veritable gentleman, and I immediately wondered whether the money spent to effect this transformation had been acquired by fair means or foul. The abject horror of the situation dawned before the advent of speech. 'Mr Heathcliff' I uttered finally, astounded and momentarily at a loss how to continue, for ours was ever a precarious relationship, reliant on the turn of my mistress' moods as to whether I should assume the role of peacekeeper betwixt them after their arguments or assume a stern authority to curb their waywardness. 'I would speak to your mistress, Nelly Dean' he said archly, looking beyond me into the cottage doubtless to gain a glimpse of his treasured Cathy.

I was perceptive enough to realise that Cathy had long since reconciled herself to the idea that she should never see Heathcliff again, what new world of misery should would be besieged with should Mr Heathcliff return? Thus I had no time to prevaricate and immediately formed my resolve that under no circumstances should he enter Thushcross Grange and disturb the happy equilibrium that reigned here. I was as succinct with my implied disapproval of the idea as I dared be, 'as you have no doubt been apprised she is now Mrs Linton (a taciturn look clouded his visage). I hardly think your visit a prudent course of action, perhaps it would be best for her to remain ignorant of any odious recollections your presence might recall of her former life'.

My cautionary words went unheeded, and had rather the adverse effect of acting as a spur to his intention of seeing Cathy, for he struck his arm forcefully against the door and his eyes blazed defiantly upon my face, upturned in horror towards his. He towered above me and I was cowed into submission, for his verbal threat could hardly have been more lucid, 'You will yield this door and admit me, or I shall enter without due invitation which I fear would greatly upset Mr Linton's pretensions to gentility'.

The prodigal spoke in curt tones 'I crave only a few words with your mistress and whilst you are no doubt solicitous for the sobriety of your household (here a sly grin passed his face) and feel it incumbent on yourself to preserve moral standards, I have not toiled and thought of naught else these three years to be impeded by you, Nelly Dean' at these words his eyes seemed to sparkle with malice, and I immediately gathered that whilst he looked quite the gentleman, he had clearly not divested himself of his abrasive temper or bad manners. He knew I could but acquiesce to his demand, for he was in a temper and I being accustomed to his capricious nature knew of the dangers faced by anyone rash enough to oppose him. My eyes betrayed my reluctance, however I perceived Heathcliff's determination was not to be borne and despite my reservations I was forced to take a step backwards. Heathcliff saw fit to saunter in; if you please, surveying all he saw with a look of derision, the only feasible emotion he saw fit to accord the house, for he stood there in a grim contemplation of all about him whilst I went to tell Cathy of her unexpected visitor.

It was with great anxiety that I sought my mistress, my mind racing with admonishments about my failure to keep Heathcliff from setting foot into Thrushcross Grange. I found Cathy alone in a room upstairs, pretending to read a novel. It is much to be lamented that our relationship had continued much the same since she had married and moved into her new home, whilst we were not averse to each other's company I had tried (albeit in vain) to correct Cathy's spoilt nature. The parity of our ages meant that this was a hard task indeed, and I believe Cathy regarded me a strange mix of disdain and approbation, for after all, whether willingly or no, I was her only confidante.

'Put the book away please, Miss Cathy, for what I have to say is important' was my first remark.

Cathy responded with her usual disdain: 'Nelly, when will you finish mending the lace on my blue gown? Is it not the finest lace you have ever seen? - Nay Nelly, I am loath to put the book aside for I am just at the most interesting part, for the nobles are about to commence a duel over the heart of the fair lady Juliet'.

'A fine way for gentlemen to behave' was my sage commentary. 'Miss Cathy, please remember to whom you speak, and if you insist on telling falsehoods at least trouble to be holding the volume the right way round first' (here I turned the book for her).

My mistress had the nerve to laugh and fix me with her bold stare, 'Nelly, you chide me as though I were still an infant, I have not forgotten the tempest of upbraidings I received at the Heights and am in no mood to countenance any further ones from you now; please remember that I am Mrs Linton and that you should strive from now on to hold a servile tongue in your head as befits your station'. After this pretty speech my mistress was pleased to fling the book away from her, it landed with its spine flat against the floor, its pages facing the ceiling, and I conjectured the pages had chanced to remain open at the duel scene, for some morbid fancy persisted within me that a meeting between these twain tempers of my former charges would be disastrous for all involved.

However, I did as I was bid by my mistress and held my tongue from uttering the rebuke her remarks deserved, 'If you please, Mrs Linton (I confess I intoned the name with significance, and earned a surly look from Cathy) there is someone to see you...'

'Good Nelly, this is most fortuitous, for I have not seen a living soul other than Edgar and yourself for what seems an eternity'. Cathy began preening herself at a small mirror above the fireplace, (vanity was ever a fault I sought to curb in her but never succeeded), before I could censure my mistress' use of hyperbole and the implicit criticism of my own and the masters' company. I saw her face assume a dispassionate look in the reflection of the mirror, 'oh, I am sure it is only Joseph, come to beg victuals for that feckless brother of mine, for no doubt he has gambled all he has and shall lose our home to someone more worthless than he is, if such a forlorn creature exists'. I was shocked that the latter consideration elicited greater sentiment than the imminent downfall of her sibling.

'Miss Cathy...' I began, eager to make her aware of the snare awaiting her, 'later, Nelly –see to it that the dress looks perfect, I won't have Miss Isabella's finery outdo mine as mistress of Thrushcross Grange, and pick that book up'.

Cathy commenced to leave the room, and I had to entreat her perforce, 'I beg of you to stay a moment', Cathy stopped momentarily at these words, for the word 'beg' is one I seldom, if ever, use; but her character being as obdurate as Mr Heathcliff's I only heightened her anticipation of the guest awaiting her as she turned and hastened towards the parlour.

Thus evading my warning Cathy hurried onwards and I immediately proceeded after my mistress, but fearing it impolitic to enter the parlour myself I stood concealed behind the doorway; neither one perceived my presence as I peered in on the scene. There was a short period of silence proceeded by a sound of elation from Miss Cathy upon her discovery, and she rushed towards him like one beside herself and seized his hands, 'Heathcliff! I had thought never to see you again!', her wonderment found an unwelcome counterpart in the fleeting fraught expression that passed across Heathcliff's eyes and on the instant vanished to leave his implacable stern look (ere long it should become a permanent grimace). 'I cannot believe it! continued Cathy, 'I shall arise tomorrow and think this all a dream', here she laughed and said 'and Nelly told me a gentleman was here to visit me'.

Heathcliff's reply was strangely curt, disrupting the tenor of Cathy's contentment, 'Nelly Dean knew better than to gainsay one she thought a gentleman, and in this respect her character aligns with her mistress' perfectly'. His eyes were like that of a man tracking its quarry, silently awaiting the first false step to ensnare their victim.

Cathy withdrew her hands silently from his, and spoke with a calmness I believed alien to her nature, 'you are precipitate in what you believe, Heathcliff'. There was a lull in her speech, yet Heathcliff did not reply. A tension pervaded the atmosphere like the lowering of great thunder clouds before a storm.

The pitch of my mistress' voice was turned to one of distress 'what is it ails you Heathcliff? Cannot you even feign happiness after three years of separation?'

The reply was acrid 'to dissemble was ere your chiefest merit, Cathy, not mine – I was never pleased to put on airs and graces as you were, thinking a new dress would make you a different person, and yet the very pith of your nature remains the same.'

My mistress looked nettled and was about to reply when a strange smile twisted Heathcliff's lips, 'Come, Cathy, I see that you are in excellent health, and that my absence has not caused you to languish; especially being in the care of one whose only predilection in life is to seek your love in vain.'

'Villain!' I could not but help give vent to my feelings in my mind, and was pleased with Cathy's own rally on behalf of my master, 'you should not impugn the character of a good man, when our own is not above scrutiny.'

Here the fiend's countenance brightened, 'Our own?' he replied, 'you meant to say 'my own' I believe? (I was shocked that he should move towards her, and have the impudence to embrace her!), 'you know then that we share a unique soul'.

'Speak not of love! was her acrid rebuke as she struggled against his embrace, and drew herself up to her full height 'you abandoned me three years ago without even a word of farewell or a backwards glance. My soul revolted at your disappearance and I sought you frantically amongst the rocks and grasses we used to play in – the King and his Queen. I was reduced to a state a pauper would have been ashamed of! lashed with rain and shivering, cold, dirty and oppressed with the knowledge that you had fled me. I would fain I have died then, Heathcliff; do not imagine my life with Edgar has been untainted by memories of being forsaken by one I loved'. My master's sneer changed to one of concern and he looked grave indeed, 'Aha! she exclaimed, 'I see that words have fled you, now you perceive that you were bold in your conjectures of my happiness'.

Heathcliff's voice was authoritative, like one seeking to return order to chaos 'I went to seek my fortune Cathy, you knew that I would return'.

Here Cathy regarded him in wonderment and spoke with mock affectation, 'Yes, forgive me, your Highness, for now with all your magnanimity you see fit to bestow a visit on me, only to put on surly airs and graces!'

I gathered my own shawl about Heathcliff as he and Edgar approached Wuthering Heights. He was in an appalling state, haggard and filthy, barely able to utter a coherent sentence.

'Hurry sir', I exhorted Edgar, 'move with all haste, we must get him in front of a warm fire before he catches cold and perishes'.

Edgar, I perceived, hastened not a jot, and instead replied, 'I found him, itinerant soul that he is, very close to my property. At first I thought him a ghost he was so pale and withdrawn'. Upon entering the house Edgar and I managed to seat Heathcliff in his chair beside the fire whilst his body still shivered from the exertion of having wandered miles in freezing weather, heedless of direction, and perhaps (I feared) without a care as to returning home.

'Do not look upon this as an act of charity, Heathcliff' began Edgar, 'in fact it is rather the opposite, it does not stem from any sense of altruism. I enjoy your discomfiture immensely; you may comprehend more readily the torment you caused poor Cathy when she sought you out all those years ago'. Heathcliff's eyes which had been wandering restlessly fixed themselves on Edgar and I saw the malign light that shone in them.

Edgar spoke like one possessed, no sooner had he finished this diatribe against Heathcliff than he began a new one, 'I must live each day with the abominable knowledge that Cathy spurned me for an avaricious fiend; you are served well for you may bask in vainglory to your heart's content; the sole proprietor of Wuthering Heights. I imagine this was your true goal in pursuing Cathy, what does a creature without a soul know of such a refined feeling as love?

'Go to the deuce' Heathcliff uttered through clenched teeth. Edgar revelled in his rivals' momentary loss for words, weakened as he was, 'so this is the only rebuttal the feted Heathcliff, whom controversy courts so ardently, can offer'. Edgar had the effrontery to sit on one of the chairs by the grate, made bold by his speech. Here he was checked by Heathcliff, 'Damn your impudence man, you are merely the donkey who wore the lion's mane, you speak thus on borrowed courage for you see I am weak, when I am well again I shall strike you down'. Edgar replied bitterly, 'do you not imagine I have been tormented by you enough? I suffered misery each time Cathy looked at you as though the earth could afford no greater prodigy. You may wonder at my confidence, but I have grown bold since Cathy's death and it is you who are to blame; to suggest that you parley with a spectre is a nonsense, it is your way of coping with the misery you inflicted'. There was a brief silence as Edgar reflected, 'nature must have erred to hold such a twain as you'.

Heathcliff looked weary and I was shocked to see his face blighted by a solitary tear, 'perhaps that is why she was taken from me; each attempt I make to seek her out, if even for a second is a fruitless travail; I must be endlessly frustrated and my body sequestered here on earth is in a very purgatory. Cathy's spirit is somewhere betwixt this earth and the firmament, wither I know not. Why did you not leave me to perdition? If there is another world beyond the clouds of the sky, I could have sought Cathy out, I would have known her instantly for I am Cathy and our souls are of the same kind. The abyss of my own misery gapes before me as a blank void. Wuthering Heights is become a sepulchre and I am its living inmate, this is the fate that loving Cathy has brought me to'.


End file.
